


Break Away

by sticks_and_scars



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sticks_and_scars/pseuds/sticks_and_scars
Summary: Arihnda Pryce uses her work as a convenient excuse to keep everyone at arm's length. After rescheduling dinner with a certain Grand Admiral more than a few times, he decides to intervene on her behalf, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself she doesn’t need him or his help.Written for Fluff Friday over at ye olde Thryce discord.





	Break Away

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to cleanse my brain of smut (lol like it worked AT ALL) so [Zalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalt) graciously provided the Fluff Friday prompt of "balance".
> 
> This is un-beta'd and maybe a little rough but hopefully a none-too-atrocious attempt at G-rated fluff.

Arihnda Pryce was tired. Exhausted - that bone-weary fatigue further amplified by stress. 

The only sound in her office was the rapid clicking of keys, her fingers almost blurring as she wrote her report. It was an update for Tarkin regarding the ongoing operation to eliminate the terrorist cell on Lothal. 

She had been diligently ignoring the pings coming from her personal comm. She knew who it was. She knew why they were calling. She knew she should have called first. She knew. She knew. She knew. 

To be fair, she did send a brief message to his datapad stating she would be unable to make dinner. Apparently that wasn’t enough of a hint.

So here she was, still typing, still analyzing the crime reports, damage reports. She pinched the bridge of her nose when she came across the list of Imperial assets destroyed by this cell, most notably an AT-DP and a TIE/LN. Evidence of destruction of the latter was never found - she really hoped they did not manage to steal it.

Arihnda was about to add a stack of Imperial data pads to that list of destruction. The desire to launch each offending report through one of the many windows behind her, overlooking the twinkling dusk, like a Kaski throwing blade was almost overwhelming. But then she’d have to add all those panes of transparisteel, too.

The Governor’s Residence had a perfectly good office where she could be working. But being at home made her too accessible. Here she had a gatekeeper, an excuse for her isolation.

Plus the time it took to drive her speeder home was time she could be working.

Or that was the nice little lie she told herself.

True: The report was vital.  
True: Tarkin was expecting it soon.  
True: She was supposed to have dinner this evening.  
True: She might have, sort of, potentially used this report as an excuse to avoid said dinner plans.

Soon, though, was a relative term as Tarkin blacked out 3 days for undisclosed travel. He wouldn’t even see the report for two more days. 

She could use those extra days to triple verify everything if she finished it tonight, though. So she continued working well after the last rays of sunlight acquiesced to stars as night fell. 

Suddenly her screen went blank. There was still power to the console—all the lights indicated such but the screen was just...black. She held the power button until she heard the click followed by total silence as the power was drained away. It always felt vaguely like snuffing the life out of a person, the click their last breath, which is why tried to avoid powering down her station in such a manner. It was disturbingly satisfying in this state of frustration.

Waiting for the console to come back online, she grabbed the nearest datapad and scrolled through additional crime statistics.

It, too, went blank.

Arihnda reached for the inter-office comm to ask for one of the techs for assistance. She was loathe to do so but had no other option as a third datapad malfunctioned. Then her eye caught the chrono and realized no one would be around until morning. She sighed heavily, deciding she might as well make use of that fancy office in her residence since the console seemed to be stuck in a never ending loop of rebooting itself each time she entered her passcode.

Dumping the stack of necessary data pads, even those that had gone blank, into her travel case, she reluctantly left her office behind.

Arihnda was grateful for the lack of traffic this hour, allowing her to return to her to work as soon as humanly possible. She wanted to keep her mind busy - away from the fact she had completely blown off her plans.

At this point in her career, Arihnda didn’t have time for such frivolous things personal dinners. She did what was best for the Empire - dating was irrelevant. She needed to prove to Tarkin that he made the right decision intervening on her behalf. The best method was to dedicate herself to her work, completely.

She refused to even entertain the idea that her last minute cancellation might have anything to do with her positively awful luck with relationships, romantic or otherwise. The last person she might have thought of in a romantic sense was being manipulated by his boss to use Arihnda for information to advance a petty agenda and the last person she considered a friend turned out to be a clandestine rebel operative.

No, absolutely was not because of those reasons.

At least the odds of her date being a rebel sympathizer were relatively low. Date, she scoffed at the word, chastising herself for thinking about him in those terms.

Shaking her head to clear away the unwanted thoughts and securing her speeder in the private bay, she walked through the entryway and immediately knew something was off. Someone was here, inside her home. Arihnda rarely asked for a stormtrooper escort when moving around the city on her own - citing a waste of Imperial resources, but knowing it was because she tried to avoid the fuss and could defend herself. At least all those classes at Yinchom did teach her _something_ useful, she hoped.

Silently setting her travel case down, she moved just as quietly towards the light bleeding into the corridor. A light she was certain was off when she left for the day.

There was an odd scent in the air too - spicy and savory. Nothing bad but absolutely not…

She stopped in the archway leading to the informal dining and sitting room.

The table had place settings for two, a bottle of wine on ice that had half-melted, and a stack of take-out containers in the middle framed by two taper candles, half-melted as well, wax dripping onto the antique holders.

Across the room, seated with perfect posture while intently reading a datapad, was the intruder. The only sign of comfort was one leg crossed over the other; a booted ankle resting atop crisp white pants.

Some of the tension bled from Arihnda’s shoulders - at least she wouldn’t need to fight, well, not physically.

Her lips locked into a defiant smirk that held thinly veiled annoyance as she broke the silence. “How did you get in here?” She pushed venom into her words just in case he refused to look up from reading.

“Good evening, Miss Pryce. I am pleased to see you made it home.” He did indeed lift his head, slowly, his unsettling yet undeniably fascinating glowing red eyes fixed on her.

Those words sounded entirely too...familiar, casual, coming from his mouth. She instinctively corrected him, “That’s _Governor_ Pryce, Admiral. I ask again, how did you get in?”

The man gracefully unfolded his tall frame from the armchair, stretching like a jungle cat, working blood back into muscles that had likely been stationary for awhile, judging from the state of the tableau. The white uniform pulled across his deep blue skin, shifting everything back into place as if he had merely walked out of his quarters for the day - wrinkle free and spotless.

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to take a seat.

Arihnda shifted her weight to one leg, sticking out the opposite hip, and defiantly crossing her arms.

“Won’t you join me? It would seem our dinner plans were inconvenient. I took it upon myself to bring the evening to you. Come, sit.” Arihnda found it difficult to detect any sarcasm or duplicity in the offer. He was genuinely attempting to accommodate her. 

He was also unbelievably dense - a trait she picked up on the first time they met at that Ascension Day...disaster. She suppressed the shudder that always accompanied memories of that night.

“Did you stop the think there was a _reason_ I was unable to make dinner? I don’t have time for this. Tarkin wants this report as soon as possible.”

They stood still for a moment, eyes locked, daring the other to make the next move. 

One corner of his mouth rose into an infuriating grin which only made the words he spoke even more frustrating. Maybe she would end up in a physical altercation after all - the sudden urge to slap that look off his face was almost overwhelming.

“I do not believe I am preventing you from accessing your office, Governor Pryce. We would not want to keep the Grand Moff waiting, even if he is currently out of reach.” His tone was smug now, knowing he caught her bit of deception. She should have known Tarkin’s schedule would have been made available to a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy

On second thought, perhaps a punch to the gut would be more sufficient. She would certainly enjoy that more and it wouldn’t mark his stupidly attractive face..

In response, she made a sort of frustrated grumble, turning from the room to pick up her travel case and make her way to the office.

Surprisingly, he made no attempt to stop her. Arihnda was annoyed to find herself disappointed by that realization.

She unloaded the data pads from her case, neatly stacking them on the corner of the desk in order of importance, while waiting for her console to start. When prompted for her passcode, she entered it and the start up sequence started all over again.

Just like it had at her office.

“Technical issues?”

He was standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame, hands locked behind his back. The gesture caused his white tunic to strain across, hinting at the muscle tone hidden beneath.

She caught herself staring, only to snap her eyes up and find red eyes twinkling with humor.

Squinting while studying that look on his face, she realized the humor was not from her predicament but because he was hiding something.

“What did you do?” Her tone was acidic, burning her own throat as she spoke.

He kept his face a mask of innocent indifference. “I assure you I did not do anything, Governor Pryce.” The way he said her title and name was nearly a purr, the way he emphasized the Rs. 

“Fine. What did you arrange to have done to my consoles and data pads?” She was growing weary of this game. 

“Ah, perhaps you would allow me to explain over dinner?” His tone was light, almost playful. A sharp contrast to the normally reserved and calm demeanor projected to the public at large. 

“It would seem I don’t have much of a choice in the matter anymore.” Admitting defeat, she abruptly stood and made to push by him, wanting to exercise some modicum of control over the situation.

Instead, she barreled straight into him as he decided to push off the wall at that exact moment, inadvertently placing himself directly in her path. They stumbled a few steps across the hall, stopping when his head crashed into the wall. 

He had, it seemed, instinctively wrapped his hands around her waist to prevent her from falling. Again, they found themselves staring at the other in complete stillness. The strength of his fingers pressing just above the curve of her hip made her mind short circuit as she wondered how those fingers might feel pressed against her skin, or a number of other sensitive places fingers could exploit.

Her hands were twisted into his tunic in her own bid to stay upright. 

Before she could wander down another inappropriate tangent, she pushed against him, putting space between their bodies but grabbed his upper arm, to ensure her own steadiness as she fully stepped back.

“Kriff, Thrawn, are you ok?”

Hands no longer occupied with keeping her steady, he rubbed the back of his head, assessing the damage. Arihnda noticed he was suppressing a smile. Then she realized she used his name without a preceding rank. Maybe she hit her head too.

“I assure you I am quite alright, thank you for your concern.” He gestured down the hall after running a hand through his hair to settle it back into place. She thought to reach out and stop him, taking entirely too much pleasure in seeing him in any state of dishevelment but clung to her dignity instead. “Shall we?”

She turned away from him, taking longer strides than normal, allowing her to cover the distance in a matter of heartbeats. Arihnda settled into a chair before Thrawn could exercise any more chivalrous behavior; she was quite capable of pulling out her own chair, thank you very much.

He stretched long arms across the table to open each of the containers and pass them to Arihnda. Silently they filled their plates with vegetables in some sort of brown sauce, thin slices of spiced meat, and aromatic rice. 

Thrawn stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth when Arihnda spoke, her own fork dropping to the plate as if remembering she was owed something before she would consider eating, “Now will you please explain?”

“Perhaps we could eat first? The food has cooled enough and I fear it might become cold before much longer.” 

Arihnda rolled her eyes at his stalling tactic but the rumble in her stomach, apparently loud enough to elicit a huff of laughter from Thrawn, overrode any argument she might have offered.

Thrawn did set his fork back down, realizing he neglected the wine.

“My apologies,” he stated as he filled her glass with the sparkling gold beverage, slightly beyond an appropriate amount. 

Of all the things he should be apologizing for, forgetting wine was the least deserving but Arihnda kept that thought to herself as Thrawn poured a glass as full for himself. 

“To what should we toast?”

“The glory of the Empire, of course.” Arihnda answered, as automatically as she had corrected him earlier for using the wrong title. Heat rose to her cheeks, feeling embarrassed by her instinctive patriotism.

“Ah, of course,” he raised his wine, “To the glory of the empire,” he paused to clink his glass to hers, then added, “and the civil servants who work tirelessly to keep it running”

The blood in her cheeks went into full bloom at his addition. His tone was so sincere, so genuine, it made something inside her hum to life but she chose to hide behind a long drink of the sweet alcohol.

Thrawn smirked over his own glass as he took a polite sip.

He kept the conversation moving while they ate, asking questions about daily life on Lothal, her childhood. He inquired about local attractions, of which there were few, and what she enjoyed most about the planet, another short answer.

They moved to the sitting room where Thrawn split the last bit of wine between their glasses. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, like reversed book ends, turned towards each other with one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched to the floor. Arihnda leaned her head against her fist, elbow propped against the back of the plush upholstery while Thrawn maintained his military bearing even with the casual pose of his legs. Arihnda noticed that he diligently kept his boots from touching the furniture.

She had all but forgotten her anger with him, with her inability to finish her report according to her own schedule...even if that schedule was self-imposed as a means to avoid this exact scenario. 

That was, of course, until Thrawn leaned in, conspiratorially and whispered, “would you like to know how I did it?”

Arihnda mimicked his posture, leaving less than an arm’s reach of space between them. She was close enough that she could feel heat rolling off his body, or at least she was telling herself he was the external source of the heat, not that it was from blood rushing throughout her body, burning like embers just under her skin.

“It was quite simple really, well, for me.” Thrawn swallowed the small amount of wine left in his glass for dramatic effect. “Turns out one of my sensor operators had a delightfully misspent youth as a slicer. Apparently he had no trouble with Imperial systems as none of his many arrests appeared on his record. He was more than happy to exchange a favor with a Grand Admiral willing to pretend he had not heard the rumors.”

Arihnda scowled, but it felt performative, like it was the expected response. In reality, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Sure, she was annoyed that he derailed her plans, that he trampled right through her flimsy excuse to cancel. On the other hand, she had to admit his tenacity did have some benefits. Those including the nice meal, even if it was a little cold, the conversation, even if he had been reticent to answer many questions about himself, and, of course, the wine. 

Thrawn told her it was blossom wine from Alderaan. Whatever it was, Arihnda thought, it was delicious, and apparently contained a higher alcohol level than most others because now that she was this close to Thrawn, all she could focus on was his mouth, his lips a surprisingly vibrant pink. Had to be the wine, no other explanation…

Her mind quickly shifted to the memory of their little mishap in the hall, the way her body felt pressed against his - unexpectedly pleased by the fact that they fit together like puzzle pieces falling into place, completing and breathing life into a long-forgotten image.

“But, why? Why did you do it?”

“Balance.” Thrawn responded simply as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, yet somehow his tone lacked condescension. 

“Balance.” Arihnda repeated. 

“Do you know you rescheduled 4 times before today? Always citing work. I assumed it was a lie by the third time but realized you throw yourself completely into your duties at the cost of every other aspect of your life.” She didn’t like the way he saw right through her, didn’t like the idea that she was unable to keep the facade she used as a shield.

“I figured with your work ethic you would understand.” She felt her brow furrow, not quite incredulity but certainly in a bit of confusion. There was no way someone could advance as Thrawn had without such a drive.

“Ah, yes, the Chiss are taught to respect their bodies when it comes to things such as nutrition and rest. We may come across as relentless automatons, I believe I’ve overheard that phrase more than once, but as a rule we rarely miss meals or sleep unless in combat or some other situation making those things logistically impossible. And you, Governor, are terrible about both, it seems. So, I saw the opportunity to force you to take a break and the Ensign was only...”

Thrawn continued talking about the slicer, the technical aspects of how they bypassed her encryptions. She probably should have paid attention to that part, so she would know how to prevent it in the future.

Instead she closed the gap, pressing lips to his, but caught him in the middle of forming a word and instead half-kissed his teeth. He quickly corrected, aligning his mouth to fit against hers without skipping a beat, and led the movements. Arihnda made a small sound in the back of her throat when her exploring tongue made contact with his: warm and sure. Confident. 

He held her cheek in one hand, delicately brushing her cheekbone with his thumb. Arihnda was about to work open the clasps on his tunic, desperate to feel more than just his hand, when a chime sounded from the chrono on his wrist. Thrawn reversed out of the kiss, ending with a few soft pecks along her jaw.

Disappointment must have been clear on her face but in some sort of pout that made Thrawn laugh, a rich sound that echoed through the pleasure center of her mind.

He stood and offered a hand to Arihnda, helping her stand as well.

“I do apologize but I must be going.”

“You won’t...stay? The night?” Arihnda felt on the verge of begging but had enough of her wits about her to keep cool, mostly.

“Unfortunately not,” he said, gently with a hint of regret. “It’s late enough as is and I have a meeting with senior staff members first thing in the morning.”

Thrawn effortlessly guided them to the door while he spoke. 

“Perhaps we could have dinner again soon?” He asked, tentatively enough that Arihnda felt like he might not already know the answer. 

Arihnda nodded slightly, “I’ll check my schedule and let you know.”

Thrawn lifted an eyebrow, skepticism plain on his face.

Arihnda offered a self-deprecating smile in response. “I promise it will be an honest answer. I think I’m starting to understand the concept of balance but may...need a few more lessons.” Her smile turned coy with a hint of pride because her voice stayed cool, not betraying that deadly mix of anxiety and desire churning in her stomach.

Thrawn mirrored her smile, “I would be honored to provide further instruction.” He bent his lean frame forward at the hip and pressed his lips to her cheek. Her hair stirred as he whispered into her ear, “Goodnight, Arihnda.”


End file.
